TO EVERYTHING In The Blood part 1
by laynee
Summary: part 1 of TO EVERYTHING, about Sam turning and Dean having to once again save him. Hurt/tormented/broken Sam; Hurt/protective/determined Dean; Helpful Bobby. Rated for language, violence, and stuff like that. continued in part 2 - True Self
1. Marked

This is the first part in the series 'To Everything' There will be like six parts (as of now) and it will be about Sam turning. So, yeah.

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

-/\-SN-/\-

The forest was quiet around them. That was never good. Sam's hand was slick with sweat as he gripped the gun, his nerves were tight. Night was falling fast and the odds were falling away from the Winchester's favor. With the darkness, came cooler temperatures. Dean pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

They had lost the trail of the Ibex, sort of a cross between a yeti and a turned werewolf; something far too fast and agile for its own good. Sam reached up and touched the fairly deep gash across his shoulder and down his arm. Dean knew Sam got hit, but he didn't know how bad. Sam wasn't venturing anything. The wound throbbed he could feel blood soak his shirt further down his chest.

Dean glanced over at Sam. "Come back tomorrow or keep going?" His voice was low.

"It has to be tonight." He whispered back.

"Sam."

He sighed to cover the quick flash of pain. "You know that once it has a taste of blood, it makes tracking easier."

"Yeah." Dean hadn't forgotten, he just hoped Sam had. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "Sure."

Dean didn't miss Sam as he stumbled over something and fell to his knees. He didn't instantly get up or have some snide remark about the ground being out to get him or the sudden increase of gravity. That was what caught Dean's attention.

"Sam."

He took a slow breath. "Got a plan. In that clearing, leave me as bait, shoot when you see it." He spoke still looking at the ground.

Dean hated to agree, but other than continuing to traipse through the forest in the dark and the cold and hope they found the Ibex before it found them. Again. He pulled the gun from its holster and glanced over at his younger brother. Sam slowly pushed himself to his feet.

"It's a shit plan." Dean said. "But it's the only one we got."

"Thanks." He managed a smile.

They walked into a nearby clearing. Dean met Sam's eyes for a moment before he ducked behind a thick tree. Sam desperately wanted to sit down, but he refused to let his defenses down any more than they already were. Something rustled in the woods behind him and he turned.

"Shit!" Dean swore from behind him.

Sam turned and saw the Ibex. It had Dean's arm in its amazingly strong grip. There was no way Sam could get a clear shot, not with the way both of them were struggling.

Like a switch had been thrown, the pain across Sam's chest faded to nearly nothing and the fatigue cleared from his mind. It was like everything else slowed down and he felt invincible. He raised his gun, took only a second to aim and fired. A cocky smile spread across his face and his eyes were dark with power and control.

Dean heard the bullet flash past his head, mere centimeters from ending up in his brain. They all knew that you only fired when the shot was clear, or when there were no other options. At the point that the shot was fired, there were still options and there was no way the shot could have been clear.

As soon as Sam's finger tightened around the trigger, the pain and blurred fatigue came rushing back and brought him to his knees. He coughed, tasted blood and spit.

The Ibex released Dean and dropped to the ground, dead before it hit. Dean glanced back at Sam as he covered the corpse in salt and lit it on fire. Once he was sure that it was burning and the woods around were still damp enough from the recent rain, he went to his brother.

Sam's fingers were gripped around handfuls of wet leaves. He shook from cold and pain. Blood soaked and dripped from his shirt. His breath was controlled and hesitant. None of that reassured Dean that his brother was as fine as he kept claiming.

"Ready to go?" Dean carefully eased Sam to his feet.

As Dean guided Sam back towards the car, he couldn't help but think about how close that shot was. If Dean had moved a fraction of an inch, that bullet would have been in his brain and he would have been dead. He wouldn't have even risked that shot, so he had no idea how Sam did. His kid brother had always been a little more hesitant to fire, wanted to make sure that nothing could go wrong after that trigger was pulled.

Dean eased a half-conscious Sam into the front seat and jogged around to the driver's side. Sam leaned heavily against the window. He shivered as Dean cranked the heat and pulled back onto the road.

The drive back to the motel was silent. Sam was focused on staying awake and Dean was focused on making sure Sam was going to be all right. Sam wouldn't allow any help to the room and was more than grateful to finally collapse onto his bed. He didn't even care that the movement sent pain shooting through him.

Dean pulled out the first aid kit as Sam sat up and pulled off his shirt. Sam sucked in breath as the wound was cleaned, a few stitches at the deeper parts and then bandaged. He turned down the offer for a hit of whisky but didn't turn down the pills and water Dean offered.

"You want first shower?"

Sam nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He staggered a little as he made his way into the bathroom. He let the warm water pour over him and kept his shoulder out of the stream. He rinsed the dirt and blood from his weary and aching body. He stepped from the shower and pulled on his jeans again. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he only met Dean's eyes for a moment.

As soon as the shower started, Sam traded his jeans for a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt. He eased onto the bed and let himself relax into the mattress and blankets. He was more asleep than not when Dean emerged from the bathroom. He stepped out of his jeans and sat on the edge of his bed. Sam opened his eyes and looked over.

Dean took a slow breath. "That was some shot."

He didn't entirely remember the end of the hunt. He sat up slowly and held his arm close to his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dean met Sam's weary and slightly drugged gaze. "It was pretty close."

Sam glanced away. Dean had been going over what happened in the clearing ever since he had loaded Sam into the car. He didn't know many hunters that would take a shot like that, hell, he wasn't even entirely sure if he could name one.

"Didn't think it'd be a very clear shot." Dean wasn't accusing Sam of anything, he just wanted to figure it out.

Sam shook his head, his voice low. "It wasn't."

"Why'd you take it?"

He paused, felt something like cold fear in his chest and didn't know why. "I knew I could make it."

"Can't say I don't appreciate it." Dean glanced over at the already dark bruise around his arm. "Just isn't the type of shot you'd normally take."

Sam looked up almost surprised. "I know." There was a brief flash of fear in his eyes.

Dean watched his brother carefully and tried to figure everything else out. "Get some sleep."

He nodded and stretched out on the bed. Dean waited until he was sure Sam was asleep before he stepped out of the room. He stood next to the door and pulled out his phone. He dialed the familiar number.

"What sort of trouble are you in now?" Bobby's version of hello.

Dean smiled a little. "Not too much."

"Yeah, you boys always call a few minutes off of midnight to tell me everything's just great." He paused. "Sam okay?"

He glanced back in the room. "Think so."

"Well, start at the beginning, cause I don't fee like guessing much tonight." He sighed.

Dean heard the cap of a bottle being popped off. "We were after an Ibex, got the bastard, but not before it caught Sam and nearly broke my arm. We're fine, but."

Bobby noticed the hesitation. "What's on your mind, boy?"

"Sam took a shot, killed it, but I wouldn't have taken it and don't know anyone that would have either. The bullet was honest to god centimeters from my head and I was fighting that thing to get free."

He drew in a slow breath. "That close, huh?"

"Heard it as it passed. Sam didn't hesitate, Bobby, didn't take more than a handful of seconds to aim."

"Shook you up a bit."

Dean leaned against the wall. "Yeah."

"What'd Sam say?"

"Said he knew he'd make the shot, but agreed with me that a shot that close wasn't something he did." Dean was suddenly tired. "What do you make of it?"

Bobby took a few minutes before he answered. "I'm sure he saw something you didn't, an opportunity. He's different than he was."

"But I always know who he is, Bobby, and I didn't for that moment." Dean muttered.

"Christ, you boys never make it easy." He sighed.

Dean ran a hand over his face. "Gonna get some sleep. Talk to you later."

"Sure."

He ended the call and slipped back into the room. Within a few minutes, Dean was stretched out and half asleep.


	2. Aftermath

This is the first part in the series 'To Everything' There will be like six parts (as of now) and it will be about Sam turning. So, yeah.

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

-/\-SN-/\-

Sam woke first. The early morning light was just starting to ease into the room. He slowly sat up and felt the pull of the wound across his chest. There was a slight buzzing pain in his head and he figured it was just from the previous night. He stood and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. He stepped into his shoes and slipped out of the room, all without waking Dean.

In the cool, morning air, he walked towards the Impala and leaned against the trunk. He pulled his hands into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He just stood there and watched the morning come. Sudden images from the hunt would flash across and he could see himself taking the shot again. At the time he didn't notice how close it was to Dean, how easily he could have been hit.

"You doing okay?" Dean stood a few feet back.

Sam glanced over and nodded. "Sorry."

"About what?"

"Taking that shot." He whispered. "It was stupid."

Dean shrugged, but kept his eyes on Sam. "Saved my ass, so I'm not complaining."

He folded his arms across his chest to try and shake the chills that raced up his spine. "Are we moving on?"

"We could."

Sam pushed away from the car. "I'll get my stuff."

Dean watched his brother walk back towards the room. He waited a few moments before he followed. It didn't take them long to pack up what they had and throw it in the trunk. Sam was unusually silent and Dean hoped it was only from the pain pills.

Sam's phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. "Hello?"

"Did you like it?" The voice on the other end was confidant, arrogant almost.

"What?"

Dean looked over at Sam.

"When you could do anything yesterday, when you were invincible and you took that shot. Did you like it?"

Sam took a breath to calm his racing heartbeat. "How did you?"

"I know a lot of things about you, Samuel."

"Who are you?" Sam shivered.

"All in good time. We are destined to meet." The sinister smile could almost be heard through the phone.

"When?"

There was a pause. "Very soon. You'll know when." Then the call was ended.

Sam slowly closed the phone and returned it to his pocket. He swallowed and tried to figure out why his blood was running so cold.

Dean glanced over. "Who was that?"

"Dunno." He met Dean's eyes before he turned back to the road.

Dean tried to brush it off. "And you don't find that odd?"

Sam shrugged and turned back to the window. Dean wanted to get every answer from Sam, but he resisted grilling his brother like a police interrogation. He hated the feeling when things weren't adding up, just like everything was now.

"How's your shoulder?"

Sam shrugged again. "How's your arm."

Dean sighed. "Stitches and blood beats a few bruises, so level with me."

"It's fine." He was distracted by the call and he had the feeling that he should know the voice somehow.

With his jaw clenched, Dean pulled onto the side of the road. Sam turned to his brother as he switched off the car.

"Dean?"

He turned to Sam. "Gunshots that nobody I know could make and mystery phone calls? What the hell's going on, Sam?"

For a moment Sam looked younger, then he blinked at it was gone. "I honestly don't know. I keep thinking I should, but I don't know why." He looked away from Dean's determined gaze.

"What do you want to do?"

He shrugged.

"I swear to god, Sam, if you shrug one more time, I'll beat the shit out of you."

Sam looked up, but Dean wore a forced smile. "Yeah?" He managed a smile.

Dean looked at his brother for a few moments before he turned the car back on. "Just keep me in the loop, Sammy."

"Sure." He sighed as the car was pulled back onto the road.

Dean's phone rang after a few nearly silent hours. "Yeah."

"It's Bobby. How's Sam?"

"Fine. You got something for us?" He glanced over at Sam.

"Looks like vengeful spirit in a house a few hours from my place. Can you get there?"

Dean checked his watch. "Should be there in five or so hours. Get it in the morning?"

"Don't think it's going anywhere. You want to crash at my place?"

He glanced over at Sam who nodded. "Sounds good."

"See you both tonight." He ended the call.

Dean tossed his phone in the cup holder and turned up the music a little.

"What'd Bobby have for us?"

"Standard spirit, we'll get it tomorrow." He glanced over.

Sam slid down in the seat a little and folded his arms across his chest. He shifted until the pain across his shoulder eased some and he sighed. Dean kept an eye on him and knew Sam was just about done traveling for the day. His own arm was aching from driving, and Sam hadn't had any pain pills in a while. Dean was about to dig for them.

"Don't bother." Sam muttered, his eyes closed. "I'm all right until we get there."

"Stay out of my head." Dean joked.

Sam paled a little and almost tensed. "Wouldn't go there even if you paid me." Truth was, it was a little more than knowing how Dean worked. He wondered if he had somehow accidentally tuned into Dean's thoughts. Dean didn't miss his brother's reaction and Sam knew that just from knowing his brother.

"Don't worry." Sam glanced over. "There aren't many thoughts to stumble across anyway."

"Least they're more interesting than yours."

"Girls and hustling pool? Yeah, that beats intelligence any day." He deadpanned.

Dean cranked the radio. "You're just jealous because I have fun."

It was meant as a joke, but Sam had to agree. Dean knew how to have fun and Sam, well Sam remembered at least. He thought too much, that was the problem, it always had been. Dean could step out of a job, have a beer and play a game of pool. Sam was still in the job, still analyzing everything.

Dean noticed Sam's silence again. "You okay?"

"Just tired, or something." He sighed.

"You'd let me know, if something was wrong." Dean glanced over.

"Stop worrying." Sam leaned his aching head against the window. "I'm fine. Really."

"Sure, you always are." Dean muttered to himself and focused back on the road.

Sam managed to ignore the pain and fall asleep. Dean burned away the miles and minutes to Bobby's place. He could relax once they got there, once he and Bobby had opened a few beers and figured out whatever was going on. A shudder still ran up his spine when he thought about how close that shot had been. For a moment, Dean wondered if Sam was aiming for him after all.

The yard light in back was on when Dean pulled into the driveway. He turned off the car and leaned back against the seat. Bobby came out of the house a few seconds after. Dean reached over and woke Sam. With little more than a slight glance over at his brother, Sam climbed from the car. He leaned against the cool metal as Dean pulled the bags from the backseat. Bobby took Sam's bag before he could reach for it. The three made their way up to the house.

Once inside, there was the usual catching up and sharing of information. Sam sat at the kitchen table and watched it all with a minimal interest. His thoughts were on nothing more complicated than the spare bed in the back room and the bottle of pills at the bottom of his bag. His vision blurred for a moment and his headache increased.

He slowly stood. "I'm going to turn in." Sam grabbed his bag and left the room.

Dean waited until he heard the bedroom door close. "I can't figure it out."

Bobby stood and pulled a couple beers from the refrigerator. He slid one across the table to Dean and popped his own open.

"I've been looking through some things, off of what you told me, but I can't find any reason. Ibex doesn't have any poison or mental influence." He sighed. "No hunter would take that shot. Well, nobody as good as you to are."

Dean took a drink and looked towards the dark window. "It crossed my mind that he might have been aiming at me for some reason, then changed his mind at the last minute."

"Like he was influenced or like he was mad at you?"

"I was thinking influenced somehow. Seems everything out there is after him."

Bobby turned the bottle in his hand for a few moments. "That it does. For his sake, I hope it was just a lucky shot."

Dean nodded and finished his beer.

Sam was asleep, stretched out under the blanket, when Dean slipped into the room. He glanced over at his brother before he slipped under his own blankets.


	3. Textbook

This is the first part in the series 'To Everything' There will be like six parts (as of now) and it will be about Sam turning. So, yeah.

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

-/\-SN-/\-

They woke early and met Bobby down in the kitchen. Coffee had been started and it was needed. Sam grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Dean sat down across from him.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Fine." Sam took a drink. Bobby's coffee wasn't particularly good, but it was hot and strong.

Bobby sat down. "You up for today?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sam met his eyes.

"Leaving in fifteen then."

Sam finished his coffee and left the table. He went up to the room and carefully organized what he would need for the hunt.

"I don't think you should go." Dean leaned against the doorframe.

"I'm fine."

Dean watched him carefully. "You're not top form."

He turned. "Never stopped us before." He paused. "Worried I'm going to put a round in you?"

"Not until you said that." He smirked.

"I won't."

He rolled his eyes. "You had better not."

Sam grabbed the bag and pushed past Dean. "See you out back."

Dean stood in the room for a few minutes. In all honesty, he was a little concerned that Sam would end up putting a bullet in him, but that wasn't his main concern. There was something about Sam he couldn't read and that worried him more than anything else.

Bobby, Dean and Sam climbed into Bobby's truck and headed out towards the house. On the way over, Bobby filled them in on the details. The decapitated house loomed at the end of the driveway. The windows were empty and gaping and the front door was missing.

"Cheery." Sam observed.

"Practically your dream home, Samantha." Dean climbed from the truck.

Sam jumped down behind him.

Bobby walked around. "Well, I'll help you move in after we get the current occupants out."

The three walked towards the house. In the few steps they walked towards the house, all joking and sarcasm was gone. The seriousness of the hunt took over, as it always did, and they climbed up into the house. Sam winced as he moved his arm in a way that he realized he shouldn't. Dean noticed, but didn't say anything.

The floor creaked under them in a way that made them wonder about the soundness of the structure.

"Hope this floor holds out." Bobby muttered.

Dean glanced around the dreary rooms. "Let's find this thing before we have to rely on the floor too much longer."

As if his wish had been granted, a plate went flying through the air and the three ducked as he smashed against the wall.

"Anything else you want?" Sam glanced over with a smile.

Dean grabbed his gun. "A beer and a hot girl, but I can wait."

The spirit materialized in front of them, a man in bloody overalls. Even without being an angered spirit, he would have been intimidating. In half a second, the spirit had Sam pinned against the wall by his throat. Sam struggled to get away from the icy grip that constricted his breath. Automatically both Dean and Bobby aimed, but there was no way of getting the spirit with the rock salt without getting Sam.

"Just shoot." Sam gasped. "Hurry."

"Sam." Dean glanced over at Bobby.

"It's just rock salt." He managed despite having no breath.

Bobby saw Dean hesitate. "Sorry, Sam." He fired.

The spirit disappeared and Sam dropped to the floor. Rock salt had hit Sam as well as the spirit, but other than the initial pain and the later bruising, there was no lasting damage. He stayed on his hands and knees and tried to catch his breath. Dean was at his brother's side in a second.

"I'm going to look for that bastard's bones." Bobby headed towards the basement.

Dean nodded. "We'll be down in a minute."

Sam slowly eased back against the wall.

Dean knelt in front of Sam. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "Just give me a second."

"Why is it always you?" Dean was half joking.

Sam shrugged and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Dean was about to ask if Sam was all right, but the glare he received silenced the question. They slipped down into the basement and met up with Bobby at the bottom of the stairs.

"You okay?" Bobby looked over at Sam.

He nodded.

"I found the bones and was just going to get you guys."

Bobby turned and was followed by Sam and Dean. They found themselves in a dirt -loored room. Part of an arm bone stuck through the dirt in the corner. Bobby tossed Sam a container of salt as he and Dean started to dig. As soon as the bones were clear, Sam emptied the salt over them. That was also the same moment that the spirit decided return as well.

Dean and Bobby turned, their hands on their guns.

"Sam." Dean muttered.

Sam grabbed the lighter fluid and lighter from Dean's pocket and doused the bones. Both Dean and Bobby had to fire to keep the spirit back. Sam finally got the bones lit and smoke blended with the dust in the air. As soon as the spirit was gone, the three raced from the house before any of the ancient wood could catch.

Once out in the yard, they walked towards the truck. Sam stopped as he caught sight of someone standing near the tree line. The man was dressed in black and had dark hair. He held Sam's gaze and smiled.

"Sam." Dean called from by the truck.

Sam turned to his brother. Dean hid the concern well, but not entirely.

"What were you looking at?" He leaned against the hood.

He turned back, but there was nothing but overgrown yard and trees. Sam shook his head and walked towards the truck.

"Sammy?" Dean caught his brother's arm.

"Thought I saw something, but, must have been a shadow or something." He lowered his eyes and climbed into the truck.

Dean caught Bobby's eyes before they climbed into the truck. Dean believed that Sam saw a shadow like he believed that Santa and the Easter Bunny were real. Sam wasn't venturing anything else and was looking determinedly out the window. He didn't say anything the entire way back to Bobby's.

Bobby pulled into the driveway. Sam was out of the truck without a word. Dean jumped down and grabbed Sam's arm.

"Level with me. What's going on?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't really know."

"What?"

"Believe me, Dean. I'd tell you if I could." He pulled away and went up to the house.

Sam spent the evening in Bobby's library. He paged through a stack of books, took notes when something caught his eyes.

"Sam." Dean stood in the doorway.

He looked up from the book.

"You want anything for dinner?"

"No."

"Gotta eat something." He glanced at what Sam was reading.

"Not hungry." He stood and went over to the shelves.

Dean waited a few seconds before he left. Sam turned and pulled another book from the shelves and sat down. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for and only looked because he had the suspicion that he'd know it when he saw it. It didn't seem long before his eyes burned with fatigue and the words started to blur into the next.

He returned the books back to the shelves. He slipped upstairs quietly to avoid being heard by Bobby and Dean as they talked in the kitchen. Sam slipped under the blankets and let sleep claim him.

Sam was back in the clearing, the gun in his hand and Dean held hostage by the Ibex.

"Shoot it." It was the voice from the phone call.

Sam turned and saw the man from along the tree line at the house. Up close, his eyes were dark and shadowed. Sam immediately felt powerful, like he did when he took the shot.

"Fire the gun, Samuel." He smiled, a cold smile that held nothing but malice.

"Who are you?"

"Damas. Fire the gun."

Sam turned back to his target. He was about to pull the trigger when Damas reached over and shifted Sam's hand over.

"Fire now."

He smiled and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through Dean and then the Ibex. Both fell to the ground, dead the second before they hit.

"Are you doing this?" Sam turned with a smile on his face.

"No." Damas looked over Sam like a long lost son. "It's all you, I'm just your guide."

Sam holstered the gun and looked over at Dean's body. "I should feel remorse, but I don't."

Damas smirked and rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Let me show you all that you can do."

He met Damas's eyes "Okay."

Sam let himself be led from the clearing.

In the dark hours of the early morning, Sam woke with a start. His heart pounded against his chest and cold sweat dampened his shirt. He looked over at Dean in the low light and held his breath until he heard his older brother breathe. Sam slipped out of bed and back down to the books.

He turned on the lamp and scanned the shelves for a particular book. He pulled a battered, black leather book from the top shelf and sat down in the chair. He ran his finger over the words until he found what he was looking for.

Rimmon - Also known as Damas, is the Ambassodor of Hell for Russia.

Sam swallowed and felt his blood run cold again.

"Sam?" Dean stood in the doorway, his eyes were dark with worry.

He looked up into his older brother's eyes.


	4. Rising

This is the first part in the series 'To Everything' There will be 5 or 6 parts (as of now) and it will be about Sam turning demonic. So, yeah.

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

-/\-SN-/\-

He smiled a little. "Hey." Sam didn't want to jump to any conclusions and didn't want Dean to.

Dean stepped into the room. "What are you doing?"

"Reading." He closed the book. "I couldn't sleep."

"Sammy, what's going on?"

Dean didn't miss the second of fear that flashed through Sam's eyes. Sam stood and put the book back on the shelf. Sam didn't answer and hoped that Dean would drop it. That was as likely as hell freezing over.

"What were you reading?"

Sam sighed. "A book, Dean."

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and turned him around. Sam winced as Dean accidentally grabbed his injured arm. Dean let go and stepped back.

"Sorry." Dean glanced away for a second.

"It's fine."

Dean pulled down the book that Sam had returned to the shelf. He paged through it and wasn't reassured by what he found inside. Sam watched him tentatively and waited for the lecture, for the shit to hit the fan.

"Sam." Dean looked up, but the only thing in his eyes was concern and fear.

"Page 107." Sam muttered. "Fourth paragraph down. That's what I was looking up."

Dean turned to the page, scanned the words and stopped. "Rimmon?"

"Called himself Damas." Sam barely whispered.

"When?"

"In the dream." Sam looked up. "I think that was who called and I thought I saw him at the house today."

"What else happened in the dream?"

Dean wasn't expecting the fear and shame that suddenly spilled from Sam's eyes and he sure as hell wasn't expecting Sam to turn away.

He rested his hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Sam?"

"I shot you, when I took the shot that was too close. It went differently and Damas, said he was my guide." He whispered, he glanced over his shoulder at Dean. "I killed you and I didn't care."

"It was just a dream, right?" Dean met Sam's eyes.

"I don't know. I hope so." He ducked away from Dean's hand. "You should get some sleep."

"So should you."

He shook his head. "Not tonight. Seriously, Dean, I'll talk to you later."

Sam left the room and left Dean alone with the books around him. He wondered what exactly was going on with his kid brother. He heard the front door close and knew that Sam had slipped outside.

Sam retreated to the cool night air. His head was spinning with the information and he wished he knew what was going on. Maybe it was just a dream, like Dean had said, just his way of trying to piece together all that had happened. It was all so frustrating, because it scared him.

The window of a car nearby shattered as though a rock had been thrown through it.

He turned and felt his hands shake. Power, like in the clearing when he took that shot, coursed through his blood and buzzed in his head. He swallowed and looked at the other window that was still intact. He slowly raised his hand and watched that window shatter as well. It was too easy, he hardly had to try. He took a step back, his breath tight in his lungs and fear running through his blood.

"I'm your guide, Samuel." Damas's voice came from behind him.

Sam spun around on the spot and saw nothing but the empty and broken cars.

"And you are doing very well."

Fear constricted around his lungs and twisted his stomach. He wanted to run, but didn't know where to go, wanted to fight, but didn't know what to fight. He wanted Dean to explain everything, but he knew even less than Sam did.

"I won't do this." Sam whispered to the night.

A cold wind blew around him and he shivered again. He turned and walked back to the house, his hands still shook and his heart still pounded. Wearily he climbed the stairs and slipped back into the kitchen.

Bobby and Dean sat at the kitchen table as though they were waiting for Sam. In all honesty, they were. Sam stopped by the door and met both of their eyes as though he were facing a firing squad. He played with eh edge of his tee shirt and looked down at the floor.

"Sam." Bobby's concern caused him to look up. "Get on over here."

He walked over to the table and sat down across from them. He traced his finger over the wood grain.

"Sammy, it doesn't matter." Dean stated.

Sam looked up. "What doesn't? Tell me what you're thinking." Anger undertoned his words and a spoon at the center of the table rattled. Sam took a slow breath to control the anger and fear.

"Sammy." He watched his brother's face carefully.

He looked away. "I don't think I have a choice." His voice was low.

Bobby leaned forward. "You said Damas was your guide."

Sam nodded, his jaw set.

"Guide for what?"

He looked up, then over at the spoon on the table. He swallowed and held his hand up. The spoon moved across the table and fell to the floor.

"I didn't even have to try." He whispered. He looked up into Dean's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Everything will just fine, Sammy." Dean was confidant. "We'll figure this out."

"Yeah." He sighed and then stood. "I'm going to go for a walk."

Sam retreated back outside. Dean stood to follow, but Bobby held him back. Sam walked towards the distant trees. He heard the back door slam and didn't have to wonder too long who had followed him out.

"Sam." Dean's voice echoed over the cars.

Sam was torn between answering back or letting himself stay lost. He leaned against a rusted trunk and kicked the dirt at his feet. Something cold had settled in his stomach and sometimes it was hard to draw breath. It took him a few minutes to recognize it as fear, not the standard fear felt when some creature from the darkest nightmares had him or Dean in its sights or the fear of losing the only person he had left; but the fear of losing himself and not being able to stop the spiral down. The road lay unknown and dark before him and he didn't want to go down it and knew that he would.

Dean appeared from behind a car. "Sammy." He spoke in the same way as the time when Sam was eight and broke his arm when he fell off his bike.

"I don't think I can stop it." Sam whispered.

Dean sat next to him, their shoulders were almost touching. "Maybe not, but we will."

Sam pushed away and took a staggered step forward. "It's not that easy." He didn't turn around.

"Why not?"

"Because we've been waiting for this for years. My time's up."

"I refuse to believe that, Sammy." Dean folded his arms across his chest.

He glanced back. "I'm scared, Dean. Scared that I'll hurt you, scared that I'll…"

Dean stood and gripped Sam's shoulders. "Scared that you'll become something you don't recognize in the mirror."

He nodded and without trying he heard what Dean didn't say.

_I can't lose you, Sammy. I won't let you go, that bastard will have to go through me._

Then Damas's voice drifted through Sam's thoughts as well.

_Then I will have to kill him, Samuel. You wouldn't want that, would you._

Sam took a step back and Dean saw the terror in Sam's eyes. "Dean. You can't stop him, please don't try."

Dean smiled a little. "You're my kid brother, I'm not just handing you over."

"He'll kill you."

"I'd like to see him try." Dean easily stepped into the protective, big brother mode once again.

_Perhaps his demise will be more entertaining than I anticipated._

"No, please." Sam's voice broke a little. "Please. Let's just go back in."

"We'll figure this out."

Sam nodded and hoped that Dean believed him. They walked back towards the house in silence. The morning sun was just starting to rise as they slipped in the back door. It was no surprise when Bobby came into the room.

Sam looked exhausted and Dean couldn't blame him. "Why don't you get some sleep, me and Bobby will start going through some books."

He nodded. "Sure." Sam walked towards the back room.

Dean watched him go before he and Bobby went into the library. Sam waited a few minutes before he pulled his backpack from under his bed. He shoved a sweatshirt and a few choice weapons in it. He tore a page from a notebook and scribbled a quick note. His hand shook as he placed the note on Dean's bed and picked up the backpack. He took a slow breath, silently pushed the window up and climbed through.

Sam dropped to the ground and took off at a run for the trees. It was the only way to save Dean, he knew that like he knew his own name. Damas was waiting for him at the tree line, a thin smile on his gaunt face.


End file.
